The menu reads like a "before" case study for angioplasty: on pastrami, on kreplach, on latkes, on blintzes! When the chips are down and the last thing on our minds is our waistlines, we hunker down in one of the comfortably shabby booths of Suburban House. Motherly waitresses fuss over us as we soothe our troubled souls with rich, consoling chicken-matzo ball soup. The pun-filled menu seems almost miraculously to read our minds, so we order a "Liver Come Back to Me" sandwich (rare sirloin, chopped liver, lettuce, tomato, Bermuda onion) and drown our sorrows in a cream soda. No matter what's going on outside the restaurant and in our lives, it's gonna be a little easier to take after a bit of high-caloric self-calming at Suburban House.